The Golden Whats?

Last night’s Golden Globes sent a new standard for lame television. Or so I’m told. I didn’t watch. I’m betting no one watched.

The log-rolling that fuels Hollywood was kept to a minimum because of the Writer’s Strike. The press conference, held in lieu of an awards show, was 58 minutes too long, one blogger noted.

Then, of course, there’s the idiocy of not giving an award to Alec Baldwin for “30 Rock,” much less not even nominating Larry David or “Curb Your Enthusiasm.”

Thankfully, we were saved the infernal indignity of listening to stars gushing over how their millionaire lives get even better. Ever notice that athletes always thank God when things go well, and movie stars always thank their agent?

The Cowboys choked away their chance to make the NFC Championship, but there’s always the Spurs. And there’s still surfing. Making the big waves, it seems, is part athleticism, part physics and part oceanography. Ride the wave.

A pair of strikes, by baggage handlers and ticket counter workers, has grounded Aerolineas Argentinas. Some passengers were stuck at the airport in Buenos Aires for two days, and that caused passengers to wig out. They smashed stuff and threw fruit. Think about it. They were carrying fruit with them. I thought people only threw fruit on movies. But the Argentines actually threw fruit.